Preußen
by Tachyon-Mini
Summary: A simple hello, a thank you, a kissed hand or cheek. Who is the mysterious man that always visits the Prussian wounded? He certainly doesn't look German... A oneshot. Please review!


A simple hello, a thank you, a kissed hand or cheek. On to the next. A simple hello, a thank you, a kissed hand or cheek. And on to the next.

Watching the strange man from across the medical tent, Maria wondered who he was and why he always showed up after a battle. He didn't look Germanic- and certainly not Prussian. Red eyes, silver hair. One would have thought he was a demon straight from Hell if he weren't so polite.

And even then.

It was always the same with that man. He'd stand outside the tent, clutching the cross at his neck. Maria wasn't sure if he was religious. He'd walk in, unannounced, and nod to the nearest volunteer. Then he'd walk over to the youngest casualty- regrettably, generally no older than seventeen. A simple hello, a thank you, a kissed hand or cheek. And on to the next.

He always went through the whole tent, attending to anyone and everyone, including the volunteers. Some people stared at him, mesmerized, some terrified, and others smiled back to the stranger.

Maria noted that whenever he came up to her, she got a very distinctly... homely feeling. The stranger seemed to exude a feeling of home, if anything. Then, he couldn't be a demon. Demons didn't feel like home.

She wondered who he was, and why he was visiting these casualties of war during Prussia's darkest time.

~Prussia, July 14, 1746

Julia rushed through the darkened tent, bringing medical supplies to all the wounded. She paused for a moment at the front, wiping a bit of blood off her face. The tent flapped open, letting in a brief gust of frozen wind, then was tied back down.

Looking up, she saw a man dressed in an old uniform of some kind, clutching the cross hanging at his neck. His silver hair initially made Julia think that he was elderly, but taking a closer look at his face revealed him to be no older than maybe twenty-five.

He looked at her and nodded, and she squeaked. His eyes! They were... red! She watched as he walked over to one of the wounded- a young one, by the looks of him. Maybe eighteen years old.

The strange man said a simple hello, said thank you, then kissed his hand and cheek. He then turned to the next soldier and did the same. A simple hello, a thank you, a kissed hand or cheek. And then he moved on.

Julia was reminded of a journal entry that she had read in her great-great-grandmother's journal.

'He always shows up in the medical tent just after a battle. He quite possibly could be a demon, what with red eyes and silver hair. He walks around the tent, always starting with the youngest casualty. He always does the same thing. He says hello, then thanks them, then kisses their hand- or their cheek, if they haven't a hand. A simple hello... A thank you... A kissed hand or cheek.

Some of the wounded are frightened of him, but I am not. Demons don't feel like home.'

But it couldn't possibly be the same man, could it? That had been almost 200 years ago.

He looked the same, and did the exact same things. But it wasn't possible that he could be the same one.

When the man walked up to Julia, she had so many things that she wanted to ask- Who are you? Why are you here? How did my great-grandmother know about you?- but her voice wouldn't come.

He said a simple hello, said thank you, and then kissed her hand and cheek. She was filled with a feeling of warmth that reminded her of home, even in a tent in the bloodiest place she had ever been, in the middle of winter.

And just as he left, her voice returned. She ran outside to speak to the man, but the only thing she could see was the snow, piles of bodies, and some mulberry trees in the distance.

She snapped back to reality as she heard a cry from inside the tent. Rushing back inside, the stranger was quickly forgotten, buried beneath the other worries of the time.

And across the field, a random stranger said a simple hello, said thank you, and placed a kiss on someone's hand and cheek.

~ Prussia, December 30, 1944


End file.
